


Thrice the Trouble

by pjlover666, silberstreif, Skylar_Matthews



Series: Collaboration [7]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: ALL OF IT, Adventure, Humor, IN SPACE!, Like, Maybe Romance, Spaceships, Team/trust building, lots of snark, yeah right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjlover666/pseuds/pjlover666, https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberstreif/pseuds/silberstreif, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar_Matthews/pseuds/Skylar_Matthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Prime's government secretly employs numerous mechs. But why? In his efforts to expose the truth, a poor hacker gets a very first hand look at the setup. Hopefully he can survive it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thrice the Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Skylar: The plot was built mainly by my lovely co-authors, but the three of us all worked on it and I did the editing before we posted so it's about evenly split. We hope you all enjoy and comments are loved.
> 
> Silber: We wanted to try a three-author-set-up and it worked out marvellously. You can probably expect more very soon.
> 
> Pjlover666: What they said ^^

** Thrice the trouble **

 

 

Another firewall bypassed, another virus ignored, his own ID scrambled and encrypted. Oh yes, they didn't know he was there. Red Alert grinned as the files finally opened up before him like a young protoform to its spark. Really, he had expected more from the Department of Cybertron Security, but he wasn't complaining.

So, where was it? The files names raced past his HUD as he downloaded terabytes, really taking all indiscriminately. But he knew, he knew that it was here. The proof of their plans, that were obvious when you followed the media and you managed to hack a few lesser databases.

Ah!

There. Another heavy-duty encryption gave it away. This one was made by a professional, he realised, when even his best program hadn't managed to crack it after four klicks. What now? He'd already spent nearly a breem in the system and any longer would be risky.

No, no, he couldn't allow them to catch him, no way. He copied the file and then pulled out, changing time stamps and hiding his own paths, even going so far as to plant false clues. No one would ever know he had been here, but now... finally, he had the information, the truth in his hands!

With a smile he went back into the Open web, out of the state system. He pulled up a fake history, scrambling every last hint of what he had done. Then, he checked on his HUD the downloaded files again, yes, they were perfect.

Immensely satisfied, he deactivated the visor that enhanced the Information flows for him, and put it blindly on the table before him. Then he activated his optics.

And looked into the barrel of a heated laser gun.

Screaming, he jerked back into his chair, but the black mech above him only smirked.

"Quite impressive, what you just did. Red Alert, right?"

Primus, he had known it. It was the whole government, everyone was in it! And now he was done for. Mutely he nodded.

"Well, Red. For hacking Cybertron Security, twenty one police stations, over three hundred companies, another five state Departments and who knows what else, you're hereby arrested. Any questions?"

He couldn't take his optics from the gun. "...will you kill me?" he whispered.

"No." The black mech smiled. "But you also have no rights, because if what I just saw wasn't high treason, you can reformat me into a micro-toaster. So, stand up, and give me your servos."

He did as he was told. No rights, and in the hands of his worst enemies. He was doomed. Did they want to torture him? Worse? There were rumours about hideous experiments and them needing new subjects, he knew he should have investigated that!

With a soft klick, the shackles slit around his hands. "Let's go, Red Alert. We're being expected."

Red Alert whimpered. Of course they were. And he hadn't even yet decoded the last files...

As they walked out of his apartment, other black mechs stormed in, no doubt to take everything apart. Red Alert looked away, not able to bear to watch how they desecrated his privacy.

~

Red Alert was getting sick of seeing white walls. White walls in cells, white walls in offices, white walls in hallways. A bit more variety wouldn't hurt them, really. But he hadn't really dared to point it out to them. Most of them had been too displeased with him, when he had come here - wherever here was. The transport had been long, and he had been deaf and blind the whole time. At least now he knew that he had been caught by Prime's very own secret services, which was so secret in fact that it didn't even have a name. Sure, he had heard rumours, but they had been so quiet that he hadn't believed them. Mistake Red! He wouldn't repeat that one in a long, long time.

So, here he was, surrounded by so called Prime Agents, or as they called themselves Primers, and officially a prisoner. Or at least he had been a prisoner until last orn, when he had the displeasure to meet their president - Alpha Prime Agent - who had made him a very simple offer:

Join or see prison walls for a long time.

And as bad as the white walls were, prison walls would probably be worse.

Now he was a Prime Agent. Officially was his name now Red Prime Agent. Very original.

Primus, who was he kidding? He was afraid and he didn't want to be a Prime Agent, and certainly didn't want a team, and absolutely never wanted to become someone to investigate rumours. But that seemed now to be his future. He wanted to be back in his office, where he was a bit over zealous about conspiracies, but at the end of the day had mostly only been a bystander.

"We're here," the agent at his side announced. It was the same that had arrested him, and he had been at Red Alert's side since then. Despite that he didn't even knew his secret Prime Designation.

"Good luck, Agent Red." He patted Red Alert's shoulders with a soft smile. "They are just like you. I'm sure you will make a great team."

Red Alert wasn't sure about this at all. Why couldn't he have even gotten their files? Or a weapon? Anything to defend themselves in case they wanted to kill him?

The door opened and the agent nearly shoved him in. "Have fun!"

Behind him the door closed. Red Alert trembled as he took the room in.

It was built to make mechs comfortable, but failed spectacularly. The walls were white, the table made out of the steel, the chairs bolted to the ground. There was a blue crystal on the table, glowing softly. On both sides of it sat a black and white mech, one with blue optics, the other with a blue visor. One was a frowning Praxian with impressive doorwings, the other smaller one with sensor horns and a bored expression, just barely hiding his scowl. Both were oozing danger and anger.

Red Alert took a step back and his back hit the door. Really, those two couldn't be his new teammates. Please?

The visored one suddenly perked up, expression changing fast. "Ohh, company! Came to save me from the most boring joors of mah life?"

Red stared, then shook his head quietly. Better not to insult anyone that early. He sneaked a glance at the Praxian, who didn't seem to angry. "I was told to meet my new teammates here."

"Yup, that would be us." The mech smirked. "Soo, what did you do to end up in this dump?"

"Uhm. What did you do?" No way, he was giving out his secrets to a duo of possible mass murderers!

"Me?" The mech asked innocently. "Nothing much. Just didn't stay put. You know how it is, they put you in a cell, you escape. They put you in an even smaller cell, you still escape. The usual."

Red Alert blinked. "You...escaped the cells they have here?" That was impressive, he admitted grudgingly. He had after all more than enough time to admire them from the inside. "But why did they put you into one in the first place?"

"Ain't that a little bit unfair?" the mech asked in nonchalant manner. "You didn't tell me why yer here, why should I?"

"I see." Red Alert straightened. "Then I'll give you the same information. They put me into a cell and I didn't escape. Which is why I'm here. I personally would prefer to be somewhere else."

"So, ya're stuck with us." The visored mech turned towards the Praxian. "Ya gonna greet the mech or what? So grumpy."

Right. That Praxian hadn't said anything yet. Red Alert moved a few steps away from the door and to the table, trying to appear less like prey and more like... non-prey. Then he looked around. Ah, yes, there in the corner was the surveillance camera. He wondered how many agents were observing them. Two? A dozen? The calm voice of the Praxian, let him look towards the table again.

"Finally brought you in, did they?" the Praxian directed at the newcomer, glancing up from the datapad he held. "Such an inefficient system, although they certainly don't think our time is valuable."

"Well... I'm quite sure that in their minds there are few things cheaper than my time," admitted Red Alert, but then his mind latched on the important part of the sentence. "What do you mean by finally? Do you know me? What do you know of me? Tell me!"

"Whoa, easy there." The visored mech raised his hands, palms up in a non threatening way, yet there was nothing but danger in his smile. "We've been here for a while. What did they tell ya?"

"Nothing!" he snapped. He felt cornered already and took a step back. "Just that you're my new team and something about investigating rumours..." He looked towards the door. But it was still closed.

"Well, they told me the same slag too. But our Praxian room-mate seems to know more." And then all optics turned towards the other black and white.

He let them stare for a while longer as he finished reading the pad's contents before giving an exasperated sigh and setting it down. He made sure the datapad was shut off before they could see the screen. "You would, perhaps, be trusted to know more if the both of you weren't criminals."

Red Alert flinched while the other mech just shrugged and muttered a 'big deal' under his breath. It was, he feared, true. He had never seen himself doing something illegal, not really, but in the light of the day... and when being read the whole long, long list of his various hackings, he had to accept that maybe he was now a criminal. Not a convicted one, thankfully. But still...

"So, you do know more," he concluded quietly, trying to cover that the comment had hit deeper than he liked it.

"Yeah, mind sharing with the rest of us, criminals?" the smaller black and white asked. "Before I decide I really don't like it here and leave."

"I will share what is necessary when it becomes necessary that you know." Which, if he had his way (and it certainly had sounded as though he would), would be nearly nothing ever.

Red Alert really didn't like that answer. It went against everything he was. He crossed his arms. "Okay," he said. "Then I guess you're unimportant." He turned to the other one. "What is your designation? And are you willing to give out more information?"

"Ha!" The visored mech couldn't stop his snicker at the 'unimportant' comment. "I like ya already. But not sure if I'm really a big help. Name's Jazz. Was in the middle of breaking out of my latest gig when, ah, I had unexpected company. Woke up with this sunshine in the room." He pointed with his thumb towards the Praxian. "Ya got a name? I've already decided to name the other one Stickler."

Sounded like Jazz was a thief, or something along these lines. Now that they were both talking, Red Alert's nervousness had mostly dissipated. He walked to the table, took the third chair at the side and sat down. No prey-mechs in this room. "I am Red Alert." He glanced at the unnamed Praxian. "My specialty is finding out what no one wants me to know. And I will find out what we're meant to do here sooner or later, I just need access to a network."

"Red Alert. Huh, fitting." Jazz rested his chin in his palm. "Well, no network access sadly, but when ya do find out, give me a call so I know whose head to cut off."

Red Alert scrambled to get away from Jazz and wound up standing behind the Praxian, using him as a shield. "You're a killer?!"

"I'm many things," Jazz said, amused by the other's behaviour. "I, personally, prefer most 'Escape Artist'. But ya can call me killer. I don't care."

Red Alert actually ducked lower behind the Praxian. "He can't do that, right?" he asked the stoic third one of their little, dysfunctional team.

"It is a highly illegal act," the Praxian replied deeming Red Alert worth the answer, although he didn't stop there. "But so is hacking the government, so I wouldn't think you would care about legalities."

"But- but I only hacked the government, because they were hiding something!" Red Alert defended himself.

"Which brings us to the question, why are ya here, Stickler?" Jazz asked, "Surely ya didn't go Rebel and break a rule, like crossing on a red light?"

"Of course not." The reply was quick and sharp. "Unlike present company, I can function in society on a level higher than that of a sparkling."

"Yet they still stuck ya in here." Jazz smirked in challenge, "With us."

"Because I was one of the few trusted for such a delicate sparkling-sitter task."

"Is that the lie they fed to ya?" Jazz waved him off. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, if it helps ya recharge at night."

"I don't need to explain myself to you. You'll see soon enough and if not? Well it's not as though your opinion actually matters."

"Ohhh burn. Did ya say that 'cuz our new guest over there said you're unimportant?"

For a strange, insane reason their banter relaxed Red Alert again. Quietly, he slid back to his chair. After all, he was not a sparkling and he would not die cowering behind a stuck-up Praxian.

"Soon enough means that we will simply sit here for the next joors doing nothing?" asked Red Alert annoyed. "I thought this organisation would be more efficient."

"Agreed," the Praxian commented, shifting all attention away from the nuisance. "You, at least, seem reasonable enough for a criminal."

Was... that a compliment? Red Alert really wasn't sure. "In that case, can you tell us your designation? We will find out anyway, and Stickler is probably not what you want to be called."

Jazz snickered at that.

"Certainly not, and even if it had been I most definitely would not allow him any satisfaction at guessing correctly." He took a moment to thoroughly study Red Alert, who chuckled quietly, before continuing. "My designation is Prowl, and I am your new commander."

Not that he hadn't guessed the last part already. "Prowl..." he whispered. It wasn't a designation he had ever read before. So not a high ranked agent or anything. But it also wasn't a Prime Agent's code name. It spoke of more trust than he had expected.

Jazz, who had been lounging in the chair, suddenly straightened and exclaimed, "Ya? Ya'll be my boss? I mean, our boss?! No way."

And here they were going again, thought Red Alert. There was no way Prowl would take that without some comment and Jazz would rebel. He could already see his future, full of two constantly arguing black and white mechs. Wonderful.

"Jazz," he bit. "Just accept it. You're a thief, I'm a hacker, he's the one who takes care that we do target the right mechs. We two do not like it. Prowl does not like it. But I bet that none of us would be here if we had been given a choice. So the real question isn't if he is our boss, but what our target will be." He turned to Prowl. "Just to make this clear now. I will not hurt anyone innocent. Ever."

Ignoring Jazz's commentary other than a mildly irritated wing twitch, Prowl continued directing his discussion solely towards Red Alert. "You do not get to decide if our targets are innocent or not and you most certainly do not get to refuse any assignments or you will be shipped back to face whatever alternate option you preferred this job over."

"This," Jazz growled and turned to look at Red Alert. "Because of this aft's behaviour. I'm a thief and ya're a hacker, while he's just an AFT. This is why I refuse to accept him as our 'Commander'."

Red Alert was ready to accept prison, just so he could leave the room. For a moment he glanced helplessly at the camera, then again at his new teammates. "There are many things I would prefer prison over doing. It would be good do make clear what those things are, before we are in the middle of something." Let's work together mechs, he pleaded in his mind.

"I _do not_ like being told what to do," Jazz said, the smile long gone form his face.

Red Alert covered his face. "Just who thought this is a good idea?"

"The very same government that thinks keeping us waiting is an appropriate use of time," Prowl stated.

"Truer words have never been spoken," muttered Red Alert. "Does anyone have to say anything important before I go to the door and try to hack the key console, so we can ask them directly?"

"Yes!" Jazz said suddenly. "Why didn't ya do that earlier and not waste so much time? I'm about to ditch this dump anyway. Might as well see what ya can do."

"Because we're observed by a camera and I try to commit as few crimes as possible in a secret government building," Red Alert answered drily. "Also I'm quite sure that this door is reenforced and hack-proof, which means that without access to the network I need to use mechanical means first. Means that are not my specialty."

Jazz sighed. "Primus ya make it sounds so complicated. Wanna leave through my way? It's a little tight squeeze, but I'm sure ya can fit. No need to put your processor in a twist by hacking that stupid door."

"In case the both of you have forgotten," Prowl interjected, cutting their conversation short. "It is not solely criminals in this room and I will not be any sort of accessory to your crimes. Now, sit back down, the both of you, and perhaps you'll allow me to enlighten you as to our first task."

Red Alert turned towards him. "And here I thought that if there is no reason to sit inside the room, that we're expected to break out together." A few seconds ago, it had seemed logical... in a way. After all, always look beneath, right? "Sorry then."

Jazz just huffed. "What, ya need a special invitation to talk or what? Just explain what the slag we're supposed to do!"

"Apparently so, as it seems a special request is necessary in order for you to shut up."

And here they were going at it again. Primus, they were a match made in the pit, Red Alert realised with horror. Especially as he realised that someone thought he was as bad as them.

Jazz's visor suddenly flashed white in anger and before anyone knew what was going on, the data pad in front of Prowl was in Jazz's servos. Only with the exception that it was cracked. "Next time it'll be ya helm."

"Jazz!" exclaimed Red Alert in shock.

"Congratulations on destroying the only copy of our mission," Prowl commented casually.

"Oh please," Jazz said towards Red Alert as he played with the destroyed pad, annoyed. "It's not like the slagger hasn't memorized every single letter in it."

"You'll never know, now will you?" Prowl responded with the faintest hint of a smirk. The first emotion of any sort he'd bothered to show.

Red Alert considered pointing out that there was never only one copy. But then he decided to keep quiet and work on his plan to get out of this team. Maybe he could kneel and beg before the Alpha Primer?

"Would ya just get on with the explanation?" Jazz asked, exasperated, throwing a piece of broken glass from the data pad at Prowl.

The Praxian swatted the glass away without a care, still focused on the more annoying of his subordinates. "I would make the attempt if I thought I could get a word in edgewise between all your pointless expulsions of literary vomit."

Literary vomit...? Red Alert had never heard that before, but Jazz - that much he already knew - would not like it. "Prowl, Jazz," he tried. "Maybe we can simply talk without insulting each other?"

"Is it my fault if a simple statement of fact is taken as an insult?"

"Primus, do ya get off on the sound of ya own voice?" Jazz glared behind the visor, throwing yet another piece of glass at the Praxian, ignoring Red Alert.

Red Alert's face hit the table. "I give up. Just take me to prison."

"That's no longer your choice to make," Prowl said, turning to Red Alert. He ignored the chunk of glass that was very obviously going to miss him as thoroughly as he was now, again, ignoring the mech who threw it. "As your commander, it is up to me to determine where you end up."

"Obviously that's inside the pit," muttered the hacker, nearly inaudible.

"Likely, yes, but only Primus has the authority to send you there."

"Wonderful." Red Alert looked up. "Just tell us how the government has decided to make all of our lives even worse. At the moment I'm expecting some ridiculously dangerous rescue mission inside some enemy territory far away that we got thanks to being completely expendable and deniable."

For having nothing better to do, Jazz threw another piece of glass, this time at Red Alert. It clanged when it collided with the mech's helm.

"Ow!" Red Alert glared at him.

Jazz just stuck out his glossa. Red Alert shot him the evil optic.

"Sparklings, enough." Prowl ex-vented once, for show, before saying more. "Actually, our task is far more mundane."

"Thank Primus!" exclaimed the hacker.

Prowl leveled a mild glare towards Red Alert, hoping he at least knew when to be silent.

"Now then," the Praxian continued when the two seemed to finally, finally, be listening. "Our task this time is a simple one; a mere retrieval. Our target," and here he pulled another datapad from his subspace before setting it on the table so the other two could see the image on it. "Is to find and save this noble. He is the first creation of a high nobility line and thus it is imperative that we complete this task as quickly and as low key as possible."

Red Alert stared at him. "So... it is a ridiculously dangerous rescue mission inside enemy territory that we got thanks to being completely expendable and deniable," he said flatly.

"Great, more stuck up pricks." Jazz muttered.

Ignoring his raging headache, Red Alert looked at the image. "Why was he kidnapped? Money?"

"Unknown at present," admitted their commander. "However, he is the sole creation of his house so the most likely guess is a vie for control from another house. This sort of thing is rather common in noble culture."

"Right..." Kidnapping was part of their culture?! "Do we know anything about the kidnappers? Pit, how do we know that he didn't run?"

"Cuz he's a noble." Jazz answered, "Meaning he'll sit on his pretty little aft and wait for someone else to do the job for him."

Prowl's mouth thinned to a sharp line. "The contents are undisclosed, but the records show there was a note left. No ransom request, that we've been informed of, but a note stating he was taken nonetheless."

"Oh, so they expect miracles, but we aren't even getting all information?" Red Alert asked and looked at Prowl in the faint hope that he was wrong.

"It's lucky the nobles released even this much information to us. They have an incredible capacity for keeping secrets, even in instances when it will only hurt themselves. It only shows how desperate his house is to see him returned."

Jazz suddenly smirked. "Good thing we have a mech on board who knows how to hack real good." He looked towards Red Alert. "Ya _can_ get us more info, right?"

Red Alert blinked, then nodded hesitantly. "Yes... but really, Prowl, you make the nobles sound like some sect."

"They are," Jazz pipped in.

"They are not," Prowl argued. "That would make them easier to deal with."

"Easier," Red Alert repeated faintly. "Okay. Prowl, as the commander and because time is of essence, do you want me to collect information or not?"

"That should not be necessary at this point. There was apparently a witness to the event and so we have a vague description of two of the mechs involved as well as their ship's appearance and a general direction they went upon launch."

"Do we have any idea where they'll be keeping him?" Jazz asked.

"That remains to be seen when we land." Prowl was willing enough to respond to Jazz when he asked appropriate questions in a respectable and timely manner.

"Fantastic!" Red Alert managed a smile. "So if you do not need anything hacked, that means I can stay here quietly and safely, right?"

Jazz snickered at that. "I like ya."

"We are inadequately informed at present on whether your skills will be necessary upon arrival so that is a no." The finality in Prowl's last word was cutting.

"So, you take me with you to... well, somewhere, because you might need a nerdy hacker in a hostage situation?" Red Alert sighed. "I want a gun then. And more information about where we are going. And a computer with network access."

"Ohhh, if he gets a gun, I want a gun too!"

"You will be provided with the appropriate materials at the time when it is deemed necessary." Prowl then looked to Jazz. "You, on the other hand, are unlikely to be armed with any weaponry. Ever."

"Wait. You mean you really would get me a gun? A real-life gun?" Red Alert gaped.

"If the situation required you to use one then it would be exceedingly impractical if you did not have one, no?"

"I guess..." He nearly blushed as he admitted, "But I need a few shooting lessons first." He hadn't thought that they would really consider arming him, a - as Prowl had pointed out - criminal. It made him more queasy about the job.

"I can help with that!" Jazz offered with a big grin, "If you give me a gun!"

"You will teach him the theories only," Prowl stated.

"He just points and shoots! What more is there me to teach him?"

Red Alert silently agreed. There was more?

"Then your job is already complete," was the cool answer. "I am not having you near anything you could use to attempt to offline or take me as hostage for whatever insanity crosses your depraved mind in the moment."

"Then I guess ya better cut off my servos then." Jazz glared. "Even a data pad is a weapon in my hands." And to prove just that, he threw yet another broken shard of glass.

"I will most certainly take that idea into consideration." He shifted his helm just enough for the glass shard to whiz by harmlessly.

Red Alert sighed. "And if this is long term I honestly want hand-to-hand lessons too. I have a bad feeling between the two of you I might need them." Forget criminals. He was talking self-defense from these two!

Jazz grinned, "Red, baby, I'm ya mech again."

"Thank you?" He guessed he should accept any help... but Jazz seemed uncontrollable. On the other hand there was Prowl who was clearly wanting to control everything. Oh, and the way Jazz was throwing glass shards and Prowl avoiding them, left little doubt in his mind, that they were both able to overpower him. He was slagged.

The door opened then and an unknown mech stood at the threshold. "You've wasted enough time, come along now."

And for all that Red Alert had never wanted to enter and had even offered to break out, now he wanted nothing more but stay. Here it was safe. Out there... well, he looked towards his two new companions, who both managed to look somehow eager. Right. With a deep sigh, he stood up:

"We didn't waste time," he grumbled. "We were getting to know each other."

"Just shut up and follow me. In silence."

The mech, after making certain they were listening, began their trek. They passed further into the building, taking tunnels that led deeper into the maze that was the facility until they came to a large set of double blast doors. The mech stepped to the side to access a panel hidden in a section of the wall, plugging in a cable to upload the appropriate code before the doors could open. When they did slide open the sight that greeted the trio was of a small scale docking station that was almost entirely void of life. The only signs of anyone came from a control station far to the right with no access doors from the launch bay. At the far end was no wall, only an opening nearly as large as the room. In the middle of the area was a white, small ship, with little stumpy wings, big coopery turbines, a big cockpit and a red painted line along the side. It was worthy of a five bot crew, if they were all femmes or minis. The three of them would be lucky to fit with any room to move around at all.

"Congratulations on ranking such high accommodations," the mech stated as the three entered, before shutting and sealing the doors behind them.

Looking at the courier-ship, it suddenly all fell into place for Red Alert. "They hate us, right? They simply put their most hated mechs on one team and decided to give them the most annoying mission and hope to get rid of us! They will probably never let us return... or worse, they will kill us and no one will miss us!"

"Relax ya bolts," Jazz said as he rubbed his hands. "I've traveled in much worse. I can make this baby into a real monster." With that said, he took a few steps towards the underbelly of the ship, where the access to the engine was hidden.

"Oh no you won't," Prowl ordered, moving to intercept Jazz. "You are not about to do illegal modifications to government property."

"If it isn't already modified to explode the moment we take off," muttered Red Alert darkly. "Jazz, you can find bombs, right? If so, search for them. I refuse to go on board before!"

"Geez, I'm surrounded by paranoid freaks." Jazz sighted, stepping away from Prowl before the mech could grab him. "For someone so smart, ya sure are stupid. I just wanna see the slagging engine, and I can make sure it lasts while we're traveling in space!" He turned to look at Red. "And of course I can find bombs! I know the perfect places to hide them."

Prowl was about to speak when an announcement sounded through the area.

**[Attention team. You have one minute to board and prepare for take-off before we must force the issue.]**

"They clearly are planning something!" Red Alert looked around wildly, trying to find more clues. His head was hurting, his spark spinning in a frenzy. "There must be something, why else the hurry?"

**[Attention. You now have 30 seconds to board your ship and prepare for take off.]**

"But 30 seconds haven't passed yet!" Red Alert took Prowl's arm. "It's a trap, listen to me, a trap!"

"Why did I agree to this again...?" Jazz muttered to himself as he headed to board he ship, ignoring the drama behind him.

**[15 seconds remaining.]**

"Prowl!" He was desperate. They must see the inconsistency, the strange signs!

**[10 seconds.]**

"Let's go, Red Alert."

**[9]**

"No!"

**[8]**

"This ship is too cheap, too small and the countdown goes down too fast! And why us, this all makes no sense! We have too little information too! This is a trap!" He tried to push Prowl to the door.

**[5]**

"Come along, Red Alert. We can discuss this later." To his credit, he made the attempt to reason even as he tried to pull the mech along.

**[4]**

"Listen to me! They do not care about us!"

**[3]**

"Why would they try to offline us after giving us so much information for this mission?"

**[2]**

"Because -"

"I know how nobility works and the risk is too great just to have us offlined now."

**[1]**

"What risk?" Red Alert asked softly. "Who would complain if we offline?"

"That is not the point. Our demise and who would care or not has no importan-"

Suddenly, just as Prowl was speaking with Red Alert and expecting yet another absurd comment, the mech's optics flickered, before going completely dark and the hacker crumpled to the ground. A very bored Jazz (who was supposed to be in the ship!) stood behind the passed out mech.

"Can we go? This is getting annoying."

Prowl was just about to chastise Jazz for attacking Red Alert when a rather loud clang of metal hitting metal rang out. Looking back towards their entrance revealed a solid wall that spanned the breath and height of the loading dock. As they watched, there was a clicking sound that picked up in the background and the wall inched forward towards them. With every passing astrosecond the never big dock became smaller and smaller. Soon, it would hit the ship and them push them out of the flight hole.

"Could we please board the ship now?"

"Finally!" Jazz said and bent down to pick up a limp arm. "Ya gonna help me or what?"

"You wouldn't need the help if you hadn't rendered him unconscious," Prowl grumbled even as he reached down to help.

"If I hadn't done that, he would still be shouting right now!" Jazz said as they headed inside the ship. "Ya should be thanking me."

"I'm rather certain **_that_** ," he waved an arm towards the wall that had already halved the distance to the ship, "might have convinced him rather easily."

" **Or** that might have exacerbated his paranoia and caused even bigger problems. This way's easier."

"Just shut up and start the ship."

"Do **not** tell me what to do!"

"Fine! Then we'll sit here and be shoved out to our deaths, all because someone has a problem with authority."

Angry, Jazz suddenly dropped the part of Red Alert he was carrying and turned to glare at the Praxian. "Primus, ya're such a fragging stickler ya piece of scrap! I am trying to help! Get him in by yaself then." With that being said, he left the two mech in front of the open door of the ship, going inside to the control panel and getting the ship ready to start.

Prowl had just managed to get himself and Red Alert both inside when the ship rocked. Another click outside the still open door and the ship moved sideways a couple inches.

"You had better be prepared, because we're not going to have much more time."

"Yeah, yeah." Jazz muttered, ignoring his passengers as the ship lifted on its hovers. With a couple of switches pressed, Jazz had the engine running and the ship floated smoothly out of the docking bay. Now only if their interactions flew as smoothly as the small ship.


End file.
